


Endurance

by indyamy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indyamy/pseuds/indyamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is not initially impressed by the Herald of Andraste, a Dalish elf of the Lavellan clan, but as he spends more time with her, he struggles to balance his feelings with his obligations.</p>
<p>Rating has been updated.  Explicit beginning at chapter 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> I have no rights nor ownership to anything related to Dragon Age.
> 
> As the title suggests, this story has taken longer to tell than I originally thought it would. Cullen and Asha each carry the weight of their own past with them, and it will take some time until they get to a place where they can devote themselves to the other. It will be explicit in further chapters, and I will update the rating accordingly once the story progresses to that point. I am fairly absorbed in this story, so I hope to continue posting chapters on a regular basis. This is my first chaptered fanfic, so I hope you enjoy. Comments welcome!

Cullen had made many mistakes in his thirty-plus years, and he had been sure that joining the Inquisition would be yet another one of them.  His first impressions of the Herald of Andraste, survivor of the Conclave, walker of the Fade, and face of the Inquisition were not good.  Perhaps he had assumed too much prior to their meeting.  He had imagined a warrior, strong and sure, being sent from the Fade by Andraste herself to heal the rifts that had appeared in the sky.  He had imagined she would be confident and assured in her divine mission to save their world.  Instead, he got Ashalywn.

She was an elf, a _Dalish_ elf, made strikingly obvious by the dark lines tattooed onto her face, proclaiming her worship of her old gods.  She was small, carrying two daggers of shoddy quality that made her appear even smaller still.  She spoke barely two words at a time during the first meeting of the War Council, except to insist that everyone call her Asha.  This, Cullen was at least thankful for, as he had tried to repeat her name multiple times to Josephine, and she had looked at him with pity before remarking something about the “coarse Ferelden tongue.”  He could handle Asha the word, but Asha the woman was not the Herald they needed.  Save for the glowing green mark on her right hand, she looked no more divine than anyone else in Haven.  How could anyone believe in the righteousness of their cause with her as the symbol of the Inquisition?

But she did have the mark, and she could close the rifts in the sky that no one else could.  He and the other members of the War Council, Josephine and Leliana, would handle the hard work, the gritty work, and Asha would close the rifts. They sent her to the Hinterlands first, to investigate the skirmishes between the Templars and mages there.  Cullen’s brows were knitted as she left.  “What troubles you, Commander?” Leliana asked, her eyes sharper than her soft Orlesian voice.

“She…is not what I expected,” he replied, attempting diplomacy.

“Dalish, yes,” commented Josephine.  “I fear that our allies will not be as numerous as I had hoped.”

“They can be persuaded,” countered the Spymaster, “assuming she survives.”

“Couldn’t she at least use a sword?” sighed Cullen.  “Those daggers were pitiful.”

“Yes, and her armor!” Josephine said, clearly exasperated by the state of their Herald and her leather armor that was only a few tears away from rags.  “Unfortunately, we do not yet have the resources to outfit her.  We can barely cover the costs of maintaining our forces here.  Hopefully, she will meet with some success in the Hinterlands, and we will capitalize on her victories.”

Cullen nodded.  They agreed to reconvene if Asha returned.  Cullen took some solace in the fact that Cassandra was with her.  That woman could handle a sword blindfolded with one hand tied behind her back.  The apostate, Solas, seemed capable enough, though Cullen was certainly wary of him.  Cullen may have left the Templar life behind, but he would never fully trust an apostate that came running when a hole was ripped in the sky.  Of course, if all else failed, Varric and Bianca could keep Asha alive.  She had a good team.  He was fairly certain she would return.

 

And return she did, week after week.  Time and again, she returned from her missions with success and supplies.  Cullen wasn’t sure when she found the time to pick enough elfroot to keep the army stocked with healing potions for months, but he did not complain.  Asha seemed to be gathering quite the following on her journeys, as she would often return with new recruits to their cause.  Well, if he was honest, Cullen wasn’t sure that a Qunari mercenary working for the Ben-Hassrath, a Friend of Red Jenny, and an Orlesian mage were completely dedicated to the Inquisition, but they followed Asha.  That would have to be good enough for the present.

Asha was at least asking questions at the war table now, her sharp green eyes pouring over their operational options and making tough decisions about how to proceed.  She knew little of military strategy, but she listened intently when he explained military matters to her.  She often inquired after his soldiers and quickly obtained supplies they needed.  They now found themselves fully stocked with field tents and iron for armor and weapons.  Cullen appreciated the gesture; he knew that, too often, if concessions were to be made, it would be the soldiers on the front line who would suffer.  Asha seemed intent on making them comfortable, and as a result, their ranks grew.

Cullen was feeling more confident in the Herald, until he and her advisors began to discuss the pursuit of more allies.  Cullen knew the Templars would fight to the death for their cause, and the idea of an alliance with the mages in Redcliffe mage him nervous. Leliana assured him they could secure the lyrium the Templars would require to perform their duties, though he tried to not allow his thoughts to linger on that information.  The Templars would be the warriors they needed to pad their ranks and help close the Breach, a point he argued to Asha.  

“We could use the talent and training of the Templars to our advantage,” he said, gesturing to the war table.  “They would certainly help us strengthen our army.”

“Yes, but the mages would be more equipped to assist with the closing of the Breach.”  Asha asserted.  “And this situation with Alexius… needs to be remedied.”

“I agree that it is disconcerting,” Cullen conceded.  “But if they made an agreement of their own free will-“

“Dorian is not so sure that they did,” Asha interrupted.  She had never interrupted him before.  He saw her briefly bite her lip before setting her face in determination.  “We will proceed with the mages at Redcliffe.”

Cullen was annoyed.  Asha had trusted his advice up to this point, but suddenly a Tevinter mage who appeared to be fundamentally against the wearing of sleeves was more trustworthy than he?  But they had left the final decision to her, so he only replied, “As you wish.”  She would have to live with the consequences.

 

 

He had heard what happened at Redcliffe from Leliana’s spy reports, but nothing could have prepared him for Asha’s report when she returned.  She looked haggard, haunted by the things she had seen.  She recounted the demon army raised by Corypheus, supported by the Venatori, that would destroy all of Thedas.  She did not go into detail, and her advisors did not press.  They now knew what they stood to lose if they failed, and there was no time to waste.

Cullen had left the war table and gone directly to discuss Corypheus’s next movements with his lieutenants.  The discussion had gone from afternoon to night, and the moon hung low in the sky as Cullen left for his tent at the edge of the lake.  He was staring out over the frozen water when he heard a faint noise break the frosty stillness.  He looked toward the southern dock and spotted a figure perched there.  His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, ready to fight if necessary.  He made his way quietly away from the army camp toward the lakefront woods at the edge of the town.  He was a few meters away before he finally recognized her.  It was Asha, her hands covering her face, crying.

His surprise at finding her there caused his gait to falter, and the wooden dock groaned under the shift of his weight.  She startled, her hands reaching for her daggers as she spun around to face him.  Her eyes were swollen and red as they met his.  Her face was wet with tears, reflecting the moonlight.  Cullen was temporarily speechless.

“Commander…” she started, fumbling for words.  She quickly wiped her face and stood.  She was slightly shorter than he was, and she turned her face up to meet his.  Cullen could see the despair in her eyes.  She was begging him for something, but he was unsure what it was.

“You…are not well,” was the best he could muster, his formality awkward in the presence of her emotional distress.

Her eyes fell, and she turned back toward the lake.  Her voice was quiet and full of a sorrow Cullen had never heard.  “I watched them die.  I watched them die _for me_.”

He had heard of the shared fate of Cassandra, Iron Bull and Leliana in the future shown by Alexius’s magic.  Asha’s advisors had not required more detail because the details hadn’t mattered.  They had to ensure the stability of Orlais and avoid Corypheus raising a demon army.  They had set to work right away, dismissing Asha to her quarters to rest.  It had not occurred to Cullen that she might have needed more from her advisors than just advice that evening.

“They were _tortured_ ” she continued, her voice shaking.  “They were tortured for a year by Alexius.  And still, they sacrificed themselves for me without hesitation.  How can I ask them to risk their lives for me when I don’t even truly know how I got this mark?” She held up her hand, the faint green glow briefly illuminating her face as she turned her questions to Cullen.  “What if it wasn’t Andraste in the Fade?” she asked, her voice becoming more frantic.  “What if it isn’t a blessing?  What if it is a curse?  What if I lead thousands of people to their deaths for nothing?”  Her eyes begged him for answers as fresh tears fell down her cheeks.

Cullen wasn’t prepared for her questions, but he was worried for her.  She needed answers that he could not give to her, and Cullen felt crushingly inadequate in that moment.  He wanted so badly to help her, to give her the strength to continue on their mission, but only one word crossed his lips.

“Asha.”

He had never called her by her name.  She had been My Lady Herald or The Herald or Lavellan, but never only Asha.  The word felt unfamiliar on his lips and seemed to catch her equally off guard.  She eased slightly, but her eyes remained locked to his brown ones.  His breath hitched in his chest.  He steadied himself and took a deep breath.

“Asha, you saw what will come of the world if we fail, if _all of us_ fail,” Cullen told her, trying to ease some of the burden she felt.  “We fight to save Thedas.  All of us know the risks to ourselves, but the threat of doing nothing is even greater.”  Her face relaxed at his words, and he felt emboldened to continue. “Your mark, however it was given, is a power Corypheus wants, and we will all fight beside you to ensure that he does not obtain it.”

She sighed and shivered, lowering her eyes to her feet.  “You’re freezing,” he said softly.  “How long have you been out here?”

She shifted her weight and appeared to try to calculate an answer. “I am not sure.”

Cullen removed his thick coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.  The coat swallowed her, easily closing around her.  The black and crimson fur at the collar wrapped her cheeks.  She shivered again and pulled the coat tighter to her body as she gave him a weak smile. “Thank you,” she sighed as her eyes again met his.  She held his gaze for a moment, her smile still on her lips.  Her face dropped as she looked back toward Haven.  “I just…I worry that I won’t be strong enough, when the time comes.”

He knew she was referring to her inevitable fight with Corypheus.  It was something that he, Josephine and Leliana rarely discussed in her presence: the very real possibility of her death.  Whether as a result of the mark itself or as a result of battle, they had made contingency plans for her demise.  It had been necessary, but standing in front of her now, Cullen found himself wishing that the Maker would have been kinder to her.  She alone had the power to close the rifts, and, he hoped, the power to defeat Corypheus.  The burden was not one that could be shared by another.

“You have been thrust into a difficult situation,” Cullen responded carefully, trying not to reference the challenges she faced. “I have faith that you will give your best when it is needed.” The words did not sound as comforting as he had imagined them to be, and he frowned slightly at his inability to properly express himself.

Asha, however, considered his words thoughtfully and nodded.  “I suppose I should detain you no longer, Commander,” she said, bringing a finality to the conversation that was not entirely pleasing to Cullen.  “Thank you for the use of your coat,” she said, beginning to shrug it from her shoulders.

Cullen shook his head slightly.  “Return it to me tomorrow,” he instructed her.  “You are still cold.”

She gave him a slight smile as she bid him a good evening.  He watched her walk down the short path to the steps leading into town, clutching his coat as she walked.  As she disappeared behind the gate, Cullen felt uneasy.  Worse, he could not place the source of his discomfort, and he sighed as he resigned himself to yet another night of little sleep.

 

 

The next morning Cullen dragged himself out of his tent, his eyes gritty from the few hours of sleep he managed to string together.  He felt a familiar headache threatening at his temple, and he hoped that the meeting at the war table would be quick this morning.  He went directly to the chapel and headed to the back of the building, entering the war room to find Asha already there, alone.  She reached for his coat and handed it back to him, carefully folded in half.  “Thank you, again C…Commander.” She seemed to stumble over her choice of words, but she smiled warmly.

“Of course,” came his response, and he slipped his coat on as Leliana entered the room.  Asha quickly asked her Spymaster if there had been any word from Orlais, and they delved into conversation so fast that they did not notice Cullen’s face as he donned his familiar coat.  The smell of blood lotus greeted his nose, and he took a deep breath of the forgotten scent.  He was immediately reminded of the pond where he used to play when he was young, swimming with his siblings on long days that stretched into evenings.  He supposed the fragrance was Asha’s, the flower was often used in the regenerative potions that she used in the field.  His breath hitched in his chest as he breathed in the scent that reminded him of home and thought of Asha, and Cullen thanked the Maker when he felt his cheeks flush that no one was looking his direction.


	2. From Where I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen really fumbles for words when he gets the feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the Dragon Age wikia, "eth" is Elven for safe.

Cullen’s days remained busy keeping the mages in line, a task which he had hoped would never again fall to him.  The majority had been well behaved, but a few, as always, appeared to think that because Asha had offered an alliance to them, that the Templars would cater to them.  Cullen was unsettled enough with the presence of the mages that he easily snapped at the offenders and told them that they could return to Alexius if they found the conditions not to their liking.  This often resolved the matter.  Asha had witnessed the most recent interaction and told the mage that if he disturbed her commander again, she would relocate his tent to the middle of the lake.  The mage profusely apologized and took his leave, bowed and walking backward before turning walking as fast as his feet could carry him in the opposite direction of the Herald’s wrath.

“I hope they haven’t all been that much trouble,” she frowned, watching the mage retreat.

“I am, unfortunately, used to dealing with such mages,” Cullen sighed in response.

“Ah, yes, as a Templar?” she inquired.  “You were at the Circle in Kirkwall, correct?”

Cullen shifted uneasily, as this was not a conversation he wished to have in the presence of the active Templars in their army.  He gestured for her to walk with him toward the lake as he spoke, “It was a difficult time,” he said referencing the uprising there.  “It is the reason I left the Order.”

She seemed to sense that the topic was not an open one and swiftly asked a different question.  “Did you leave anyone behind when you left Kirkwall?  Your family?”

“No, my family is from Honnleath, in the south.  I…did not leave anyone behind in Kirkwall,” he said, wondering if this topic would truly be easier than the previous one.

“Tell me of your family” she offered, and he obliged.  As they walked, he told her about his family, how his older sister and brother and younger sister moved to South Reach after the Blight came to Honnleath.  She asked about growing up with so many siblings, and he told his favorite story of the day his eldest sister chased his brother through the house over some offense or another, until his brother tripped on a bag of flour, spilling it everywhere.  Cullen laughed as he remembered his sister hissing at her brother that he was in _so much trouble_ , until he threw flour in her face, which turned into a flour war that left the pantry and his siblings white as snow.  Asha smiled at him, commenting on how busy their parents must have been with them.  He smiled at her and assured her that his mother often questioned the Maker’s “blessing” of her four children.

“I am sure she did,” Asha smiled.  Her eyes locked with his, causing Cullen to clear his throat.

“And what of your family?” he asked.  “Do you have siblings?”

“Ah, no,” she replied.  My parents were killed when I was still young, and the rest of my Clan raised me.”

Cullen realized he knew little to nothing about Asha’s background, and silently chastised himself for the misstep.  “I am sorry.  I did not know.”

“I never knew them,” Asha responded evenly.  “The Clan watched over me, even during my more…rebellious times.”

Cullen’s face showed genuine surprise.  “Rebellious times? Perhaps there is a story involved?

Asha blushed.  “Well, rebellious by Dalish standards, and certainly by Keeper Deshanna’s expectations.  I used to sneak off to human towns and just…watch,” she shrugged, the scarlet on her cheeks deepening.  “I loved watching people come and go.  Everyone always seemed so busy!” she exclaimed as Cullen smiled at the animation in her voice.  “They were so different than the Dalish.  Everyone moving but staying in the same place.  Children played where their parents had played.  They seemed so… _eth_ ” she finished.  Cullen did not know the Elven word, and he wasn’t sure she realized she had used her native tongue.  She had stopped walking, lost in her memories.  He recognized the look on her face.  She was longing for something she did not have.  He could feel his heart beat faster as he watched her remember something he could never see.

Asha shook her head and suddenly realized she had stopped their conversation.  “But certainly you know what human settlements are like.  Obviously,” she said, hurriedly working to fill the silence she had created.

“I do,” Cullen smiled.  “But surely your Keeper forgave you for any transgressions.  You were her First, yes?  She sent you to the Conclave.”

“No, I am not her First,” she said flatly.  Asha paused awkwardly, eventually sighing sadly.  “I was sent to the Conclave, as Keeper Deshanna said, ‘to bear witness the true nature of the shemlen.’”  Cullen’s brows immediately lowered.  Asha saw his reaction and continued, “I don’t believe this,” she gestured to the mark on her hand, “was what she had in mind, but…” she trailed off.  Her eyes were sad.  Cullen felt an anger begin to burn in his chest.

“I don’t understand,” Cullen challenged, his voice tense.  “Why did she send you? Did she know something would happen at the Conclave? ”

Asha’s eyes shot to his.  “No!  No, she couldn’t have known what would happen.”  She hesitated, biting her lip.  Cullen watched her face, her eyes focused on the ground.  She closed her eyes and turned from him, her voice so soft he had to step closer to hear her.  “She sent me as punishment.  I went to a small village to trade.  We were running low on leather.  The hunting had not been good, and our armor was in desperate need of repair.  So I took herbs to the village and found a merchant to trade.  There was a Chantry sister trading with the merchant as I waited.  Once I finished, she approached me.  She asked about my clan, if we were troubled by the mercenaries who frequented the woods.  She seemed genuinely concerned.  I assured her that we were fine and turned to leave, but she stopped me.  She handed me a book of chants, telling me to keep it and to stay safe.  I just put it in my pack and took it back to camp.  I read it that night, after everyone had gone to sleep.  The words were just so…peaceful.”  She paused, gathering her breath. 

“I must have left it out one night.  In the morning, Keeper Deshanna called me. She held the book in her hands. She berated me for turning from the Gods, turning my back on my Clan after all they had done for me…” Her voice broke.  Cullen could see she was trying not to cry in his presence again.  Her jaw was set, and she stared into the trees.  “I didn’t even believe in Andraste,” she said sadly.  “But the words you sing to her, they are beautiful.”

Cullen stood beside her now.  He had known that the likelihood of a Dalish elf believing in Andraste was slim, but he had never heard her admit she did not share the faith of those who celebrated her as the Herald of the Bride of the Maker.  And why should she ever have admitted it? he wondered.  He had never asked her, and he was sure that neither Josephine nor Leliana would have broached the topic.  Truly, it had not mattered to them what she believed.  They needed her to be the Herald of Andrate, recipient of a divine blessing that leant legitimacy to their cause.  Asha was surrounded by humans telling her what she was, that the mark that seared her flesh was a blessing from a prophet she had never known. 

Asha continued, steadiness returning to her voice.  “Keeper Deshanna sent me to the Conclave to see what the Chantry really was.  She was sure there would be arguments, screaming, betrayals.  She wanted me to see how horrible the shemlen were.”  She swallowed; her voice lowered.  “I have not heard from her since the Conclave.”

“She doesn’t know that you are alive?” Cullen asked incredulously, unable to comprehend the abandonment by her Clan, the only family she had, over a book.

“I have sent three letters without response.”

Cullen stared at her face.  He realized now why she had been so withdrawn her first month at Haven.  She was alone in a world wholly unfamiliar to her.  She had been chastised by her Keeper, thrown through the Fade and left with a mark that the Chantry told her was holy.   She was told that the world depended on her as others made decisions for her.  Cullen was ashamed for his part in it.  Ashamed that he had never stopped to consider her, that he had never asked her more questions.  He had no idea how to remedy his mistake.  He had no plan to help her, but as he stared at her face, her brilliant green eyes, the soft curve of her cheek and the bow of her lips, he knew he must try.

He stepped in front of her, eyes locked to her face.  Her eyes eventually found his, and he spoke the only words he could form.  “I am so sorry.”

He saw her chest shake at the words and tears immediately spring to her eyes.  Her jaw remained set against the tears as her lips quivered.  She pressed her lips together then whispered, “Thank you.”  He saw the gratitude in her eyes, shining through the tears that still threatened to fall.  He wanted to say more, but he found his mind clouded by thoughts of wiping tears from her face.

Asha sighed and stepped back from him.  “I appear to have a knack for burdening you with my problems, Commander.  I apologize for again keeping you from your duties.”  Her face flushed in embarrassment, but her eyes remained on his.  Cullen felt a lightness in his stomach that he had not known in what felt like a lifetime.

“You are not a burden, I assure you,” he responded before he could consider the implication.  He rushed to temper his words.  “I mean, your...our conversations are not burdens. I enjoy them.  Not when you are crying, of course… not that you should be afraid to cry!” Oh Maker, he wondered if he could burst into flame from the fire in his face.  Part of him wished he would.

She smiled, a slight chuckle breaking through her sullen countenance.  “Perhaps we should continue our walk when we both have collected ourselves.”

“Indeed,” Cullen agreed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, hoping his face was not as red as he feared it to be.

“Thank you, Cullen.”  Asha left him with a warm smile, the tears no longer perched in her eyes.  He watched her go, his heart and mind racing, hoping that they could walk to the woods again soon, and that he could manage keep himself composed for the duration.


	3. The Cost of Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected loss for the Inquisition causes Cullen to struggle to keep his feelings in check.

A few days had passed, and Cullen was informed that the remaining mages had finally completed the journey from Redcliffe.  They appeared to have no lingering effects from the magic Alexius had used on them, and many were eager to prove their worth to the Inquisition.  Cullen called the War Council to a meeting, informing the three women of the mages’ preparation.  “They are ready and awaiting the command,” he informed Asha.

“Let us not delay,” Leliana urged.  “There is no benefit to leaving the rift open any longer.  My scouts have just returned from clearing the area of demons.  We stand ready.”

“I am ready,” Asha responded, her face determined.

“We cannot know what the result of closing the rift will be,” Cullen cautioned her.  “You are prepared?” he asked.  He knew that they had to be prepared for every possible outcome, but some were more difficult to imagine than others.  He tried not to let himself dwell on the possibility of Asha not returning to Haven.

“Yes,” Asha asserted.  “Cassandra and Solas are prepared to accompany me with the mages.  Cassandra will be leading the guard, and Solas will be handling the mages.”  Cullen was pleased at her confidence and preparation.  Everything would be fine.  The rift would be closed, the sky would be healed, and she would return victorious.  She must.

Cullen watched as the group departed toward the site of the Conclave disaster, the location closest to the bulging rift.  The remaining soldiers and occupants of Haven gathered outside the town gates, standing at the edge of the still frozen lake, waiting.  Cullen knew that as Commander of Inquisition’s army, his place was with his soldiers, not with the Herald at the rift, but he hated the wait.  He had nothing to do but stand and stare at the sky, trying not to let his mind wonder over the infinite outcomes they could face.  He was confident in Asha, more so than he had ever been, and he knew the people surrounding him felt the same.

Finally, they saw it: a green beam of light shooting from behind the mountain to their south, piercing into the rift.  Silence fell over the gathered crowd, their breaths drawn in shared hope.  They saw the rift disappear as they heard the distant crack of magic follow, and the crowd erupted in celebration.  Some fell to their knees in praise of the Maker and Andraste while others screamed and danced with whomever was standing near them.  As everyone surrounding Cullen cheered, he exhaled with relief.  He clapped and smiled, but his eyes turned to the mountain path, awaiting Asha’s return.

Those who remained at Haven lined the path to the pass, ready to greet the Herald of Andraste and celebrate her triumph.  As she crested the hill, the group shouted loud enough for the final mage in the procession to hear the celebration.  Cullen watched as Asha made her way down the line, smiling and nodding in acknowledgement of the praise from all those gathered there.  When she reached her advisors, standing side by side, she broke into a smile full of pride and relief.  Cullen returned her smile and found himself ready to celebrate.

The celebration began immediately, and Cullen marveled at how fast Josephine could arrange a party.  He was sure that by her Antivan standards it would barely be considered a gathering, but it was the greatest party Haven had ever seen.  The ale flowed freely and people dance and sang throughout the town.  Cullen had not had a chance to talk to Asha; she had been surrounded by people since her return.  She was currently in what looked like a rather lively discussion with Sera, and he watched as Asha laughed at whatever ridiculous nonsense Sera was currently spouting.  Cullen was so proud of all of them, everyone involved, but especially Asha.  She was certain as she walked toward the rift, so different than when she first came to Haven.  He was happy to leave her to revel in her victory; he needed to ensure his troops had not moved their camp to the tavern.

Cullen left the chantry and walked in the direction of the tavern, his presence causing the soldiers he encountered to straighten their backs as they acknowledged their commander.  He summoned a handful of men to accompany him to their camp, much to their chagrin.  They walked out the gates to the couple of men who had begrudgingly stayed on watch, and Cullen had the fresh group relieve them.  The men rushed from their posts as a sullen looking group took their place.  Cullen warmed himself by the campfire and felt himself begin to relax as one of his men said, “Commander.  Lights.” 

Cullen eyes squinted to adjust to the darkness in the distant southwestern valley.  He saw them.  Lights.  Hundreds, possibly thousands, heading in their direction.  “Sound the alarm!” he ordered his men.  They retreated to the gate and rang the bell, signaling the danger to the town and abruptly ending the celebrations.  Asha came running to the gates, Leliana and Josephine close behind her.  As Cullen briefed them, a banging on the gate interrupted him.  They opened the gate to find a young man in a large hat rushing to warn them of the oncoming attack.  Red Templars had joined Corypheus.  They were coming for the Herald.

 “Cullen?” Asha’s voice carried panic at its edge.

Cullen ignored the pit forming in his stomach regarding the corrupted Templars and relied on his own preparations.  “Leliana, Josephine, get everyone to the chantry.  It is our only defensible position.”  The two advisors followed his orders as he addressed Asha.  “We must keep control of the battle,” he asserted.  “Their forces outnumber ours.  The trebuchets…”  He trailed off as they looked in the direction of the trebuchets and saw Corypheus and Samson a top the hill opposite the lake.  Cullen felt a familiar rage burn inside him at the sight of the disgraced Templar.  Samson had handed Corypheus his former brethren, destroyed their bodies and their minds, for his own selfish gain.  Cullen could feel the rage growing, burning in his skull.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He could not let this control him now.

He turned back to Asha, her eyes wide, breathing rapidly at the sight of the advancing armies.  He grabbed her arm to focus her.  “You must get to the trebuchets!”  Her eyes cleared as she nodded in acknowledgement and rushed to the armaments.  Cullen commanded his soldiers and mages to fight as the first waves of demons advanced.  Cullen fought with everything he had, trying to clear the area for Asha to release the trebuchets.  He heard the second trebuchet release as the final enemy outside the gates fell.  There was no time to regroup as the merciless screech of a dragon ripped across the sky as it rained fire on the surrounding woods. The beast was larger than anything Cullen had ever imagined; he ordered the retreat to the chantry.  They were no match for a dragon and the remainder of its commander’s army.

Leliana rushed to meet Asha and Cullen as they closed the chantry doors behind them.  “We heard it,” Leliana said, well aware of the ruthless nature of dragons.

“What are our options?” Asha asked quickly.

“This building will not withstand a dragon attack,” Cullen said with certainty.  They had never meant the chantry at Haven to be a stronghold.  It was more than 400 years old and drafty on good days.  The only way they could survive would be to use the path the Spymaster’s agents took from the back of the chantry into the mountains, away from Corypheus.  The cave path led up through the rock and would put a mountain between them and Corypheus.  He turned to Leliana.  “How is the spy route?” 

“We cleared it again a few days ago,” she responded.  “The weather has been clear.  It should be in passable condition.”

“We need to distract Corypheus while we evacuate the survivors,” Cullen asserted.

“And if we escape,” Leliana countered, “Corypheus will surely follow.  We will need to close the path behind us if we are to stand a chance.”

Cullen thought for a moment.  “If we strike the mountainside with the trebuchet, the avalanche should cover our escape.”

“And bury Haven,” Leliana added, her voice low.

“It is me he wants. I will loose the trebuchet.”

Cullen turned to Asha.  He knew she was right.  If she went with the evacuees, Corypheus would follow close behind.  Asha could give them the time; he knew she could.  But how could she survive?  How could she survive the army that marched toward them?  Cullen knew she would not.  She would walk out the gates of Haven to certain death.  He would never see her again.

“Give me men to set the trebuchet.  I will distract Corypheus.  Save as many as you can,” Asha continued, her eyes focused on Cullen.  He recognized the set of her jaw.  She had made her decision, and he knew it was the right one.  Cullen’s mind filled with the flood of words he wanted to say to her.  How proud he was to know her, how he would always remember her, that he would see that everyone in Thedas knew of the sacrifice she made.  But they had no time for words, and so he bade her good luck and turned away to make sure her sacrifice was not in vain.

Cullen was in the back of the group of survivors when he felt the shaking of the rush of snow enveloping what was now the ruins of the town of Haven.  He could not stop, not now.  He would do this for her.  He would keep these people safe.  He counted his footsteps to keep from thinking of anything else.

At 3,038 steps they stopped to build a fire to combat the effects of the cold.  The wind was blowing through the mountains, and the blown snow stung the survivors’ faces.  The group was quiet; the only sounds were the howling of the wind and the crackling of the fire.  Cullen stared into the flames, mentally recounting his steps as he warmed himself enough to continue.  He approached Leliana and told her he would take some of his men forward to find a suitable place to camp.  They reached an adequate valley in an additional 1,763 steps.  The remainder of the group soon met them, and the survivors began to set up their temporary camp.  Once the tents were constructed, he met with Leliana and Josephine.

“We need a recovery team,” Cullen said, his voice brooking no discussion.

“Commander, everyone is exhausted, mentally and physically” Josephine insisted.  “We cannot risk more forces than we have already.  Please, wait until dawn.”

Cullen looked at the ambassador unswayed, “Every moment we delay will make recovery more difficult.  We need to set out as soon as possible.”

“Josephine is right, Cullen,” Leliana said, her voice slightly softer than usual.  “We will-“

“They are _my_ men,” Cullen asserted. “We leave now.”  He would not waste any more time.

Cullen gathered the men who looked the least frozen and walked back up the path they came.  He would bring her body back.  He would give her a proper resting place.  He stopped thinking; he could not continue his mind down this path.  He resumed counting steps.  At only 471, he saw her, her hair white with snow and her face red with cold.  “There!” he shouted, his voice raw with unchecked emotion.  “It’s her!”  At his words, Asha fell to her knees in the deep snow.  He ran to her, ripping his coat from his body.  He wrapped his coat around her and scooped her small frame into his arms in one motion.  He saw the smallest smile grace her lips before she gave in to her exhaustion, her head falling gently against him.  For 471 more steps, he whispered every chant he knew praising the Maker and Andraste. Holding Asha safely in his arms, he had never been more thankful in his life.


	4. An Official Order

Much to the relief of everyone in the Inquisition, Asha recovered fully from that dreadful evening.  It had been an easy decision among her advisors to name her Inquisitor, which was done promptly upon their arrival at Skyhold.  Her troops, her companions, and even her advisors were already looking to her as a leader, and now that she had returned from certain death for the second time in months, she could command more attention than ever.  As soon as they could get Skyhold looking less like a frozen ruin and more like a proper center of operations, they could begin to gather their allies and hunt Corypheus.  At the present, however, only half the rooms in their new base had complete ceilings, even fewer were hospitable enough for proper use.   Cullen found himself suddenly even busier than ever as he coordinated the reconstruction of keep. Materials were scarce, and he knew he would have to send Asha out to secure some of what they required.  Whenever he would think of her, he would remind himself to address her as Inquisitor now.  She deserved the title more than anyone; the least he could do would be to give her the respect she was due. His thoughts, though, began to wander, yet again, as he thought of her.  The way her eyes had shone with confidence when she was announced as Inquisitor.   The weight of her in his arms as he carried her back to camp.  How close he had come to losing her.   Cullen rubbed his forehead, trying to redirect his thoughts.  He could feel a familiar headache beginning at his temple, and he hoped he could keep it at bay at least until he retired for the night. He sighed as he read the same line of a requisition request for a fifth time.

“You look like you need a break.”  Asha smiled as Cullen looked up, finally noticing her.

“Ash…Her…Inquisitor,” Cullen stammered.  “I…”  He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to salvage some dignity.  “I apologize.  I did not see you.”

“You were very engrossed in your work,” she said, her smile growing.

“There is much to do,” Cullen replied, focusing all his effort into not rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Asha looked around her, assessing their surroundings.  “Yes, but you have already made great progress with the courtyard,” she said approvingly.  She hesitated for only a moment.  “Could you spare a moment?”

“Of course.” 

She led him away from the ongoing commotion of the main courtyard, up the set of stairs leading to the only set of ramparts that did not require rebuilding.  The quiet of the ramparts came as a relief to Cullen.  The toll of so little sleep and being surrounded by constant activity was wearing on him.  He breathed in the crisp, cold air and tried to ignore the faint throb in his skull as he leaned against the aging stone.  “Is there something you wished to discuss, Inquisitor?”

Asha turned to face him, her face much more serious than it had been in the courtyard.  “I…have not had a chance to thank you.  You saved my life, Cullen.”  Her eyes met Cullen’s, and he could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

“I merely brought you back to camp.  I believe you give me more credit than I am due,” Cullen replied carefully.

“I was exhausted,” she said, her grim expression remaining.  “Even now, I don’t know how far I truly walked in the snow.  The snow was starting to cake against my lashes.  I couldn’t see.  I was getting so disoriented.  I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet.  I knew I shouldn’t stop, but I was just so tired…” she paused, remembrance of the ordeal haunting her features.  “If I had fallen again, I don’t know if I would have been able to make myself get up.”

Cullen stared back at her.  She had been freezing when he found her, and he remembered how she had collapsed in his arms.  The healers had poured potions down her throat when he brought her back to camp as Dorian and Solas worked warming magic on her.  No one had ever doubted that she would wake.  Cullen had never allowed himself to consider how close she had been to surrendering the cold.  The thought that she could survive Corypheus only to die from exposure was too dangerous for Cullen to consider.

Asha collected herself and gave Cullen a very direct gaze.  She seemed to be searching his face for something, but Cullen was not sure what she wanted to find.  “Dorian told me you argued with Leliana and Josephine about going back for me,” Asha continued.  “There is no doubt in my mind that your decision saved my life.”

“I…” Cullen stammered, his heart beating even faster under the weight of her faith in him.  “I...You are important to the Inquisition.”  He could feel his face reflect the strangeness of the statement, awkward in its incompletion.  He might have rubbed the back of his neck, but his head was hurting more than his embarrassment, so instead his fingers pressed against his forehead as him thumb massaged his temple.  He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Asha was studying him intently.

“Are you alright, Cullen?”

“Yes, just a headache.”

“You get a lot of headaches,” she responded, concern evident in her face.

Maker, Cullen thought; she had noticed.  He had hoped he had concealed this from her; she had enough to worry about without the health of her commander weighing on her mind.  He reluctantly realized that he had not been as discreet as he had imagined himself to be.  He shifted, looking away from her.  He did not want to have this conversation now.  “They are more frequent when I don’t get adequate sleep.  The reconstruction has taken more effort than I originally anticipated,” he offered as a partial explanation, hoping it would satisfy her curiosity. Truthfully, he had barely slept in the week since arriving in Skyhold, a combination of the Inquisition and the Inquisitor keeping him from sleep.  The task of rebuilding a fortress that had not been used in hundreds of years meant more coordination of his forces than he had done in Haven, in addition to the scouting parties sent to explore new areas in search of Corypheus and his supporters.  He would lie on his bedroll in his tent, thinking of the work to be done, and, if he did not focus hard enough on his work, his thoughts would turn to Asha.  Memories of the feeling of holding her in his arms would rush to fill his brain, and he fought his mind and body to suppress their responses.  He would redirect his mind to reconstruction and start the process over again and again until he fell unconscious mere hours before sunrise.  As a result, he was already exhausted, even though it was still early afternoon, and the potion he took for his headaches was already proving less effective today.  He had wanted to discuss his situation with Asha, but now was not the time.  He was having enough trouble carrying on a conversation with the one person he longed to speak with more than any other.  Cullen sighed and looked back to Asha, hoping to excuse himself.

He met her eyes.  Her face was determined.  Cullen opened his mouth, but she spoke first.  “Come with me,” she said, turning and starting down the stairs leading back to the courtyard.

“Inquisitor…” Cullen started, but he was interrupted.

“Come, Commander,” she said, returning his formality.

Cullen followed her, unable to gather himself enough to protest.  She cut through the courtyard into the main hall, stepping over the stray stones and boards that had not yet been removed.  He internally groaned, praying to the Maker that their destination was not the War Room.  He would not make it through a meeting in his present condition.  To his surprise, she continued past the corridor to the War Room, entering another door.  She led him down the adjoining hallway when he suddenly realized where they were.  He stopped when she opened the door to her chambers and motioned for him to enter; the pounding in his chest had returned.

She smiled slightly, “Cullen, I won’t bite.”  He made the mistake of looking at her lips.  He felt the fire in his face as he redirected his gaze to the floor.

Asha appeared to be trying to hide her amusement at his extreme state of embarrassment.  She spoke softly but directly to him.  “I will not have you suffering, Cullen.  You have done incredible work in the past week, but you need to care for yourself.  Take my bed-“ she cleared her throat as she clarified herself.  “I am preparing to depart for the Western Approach tomorrow.  I won’t be needing sleep until late this evening.  There are sleeping potions on the bookcase behind the desk.  Get some rest.”

Cullen wanted nothing more to rid himself of his headache, hoping he could stop it before it got even worse, but the prospect of sleeping in Asha’s bed was not helping him relax.  “I cannot impose upon-“

“Commander,” Asha interrupted him.  “I will make this an official order of the Inquisitor if necessary.  I’d prefer my first official order to not be commanding you into my bed,” she said with a smirk.

Cullen let out a strange strangled laugh that sounded more like a gasp for breath.  He did not feel like arguing with her.  He wanted desperately to sleep in a bed, and the pain in his head was speaking louder than the myriad of reasons that he should not be doing this.  He inclined his head slightly at Asha, “As you wish, Inquisitor.”  She beamed at him as she stepped away from her door and retreated back down the hall.

Cullen entered her room and was impressed with the work that had been done.  It had been one of the only rooms that was in livable condition upon their arrival, so little effort was needed to prepare it for the Inquisitor.  Josephine and Leliana had worked quickly to obtain the necessary furnishings for the room, which Cullen suspected had been their silent apology to the Inquisitor for assuming her demise.  They had immediately given her the room, quiet and away from the din of the main hall, with high windows and balconies overlooking the surrounding mountains.  The female advisors had taken over the furnishing of the room, so Cullen had not had reason to enter until now.   The bed was simple, but it was one of the most glorious things Cullen had ever seen. He ached for sleep.  He crossed the room to the bookcase, taking one of the familiar sleeping potions and downing it quickly.  He had stopped taking the potion since he had realized that it kept him from waking during his nightmares.  It only took one instance of Cassandra barging into his tent to shake him awake, telling him he had been screaming loud enough for the entire camp to hear, for him to stop, but he missed the deep sleep the potion brought.  At least if he started screaming, there would be no one to hear it here.  He went to the bed, and a contented sigh escaped his lips as he sat on the edge of the mattress.  He had nearly forgotten the exquisite comfort of a proper mattress.  He removed his boots and placed them on the floor at the foot of the bed.  Cullen could feel the potion starting to take him, and he quickly draped his coat over the footboard.  He climbed into bed, pulling blankets over him.  Before he could even think about the fact that he was sleeping in Asha’s bed, he was asleep.

 

 

Cullen awoke groggy but wonderfully free from the pain in his temple.  He rolled over and stretched as he looked out the windows to the sun barely shining above the mountain peaks beyond.  He blinked.  The sun does not set in that direction, he thought.  He blinked again and rubbed his face, trying to clear the lingering sleep from his mind.  He stared out the windows until he shot straight up in bed.  Maker!  It was sun _rise_!  He had slept through the afternoon and the entire night.  He started to rush to get out of bed when he saw the note on the bedside table.  He read it as he pulled on his boots.

_Cullen,_

_I appear to have forgotten to mention that the sleeping potion Adan made for me was stronger than his typical recipe, so I usually only drink half.  My apologies, but I am glad that you were able to rest.  I took the requisitions you were handling and have taken most to fill.  The rest I have tasked Josephine with filling.  I will likely be in the Western Approach for a week or two, so please use my chambers as you need while I am away.  This is an official order, Commander._

_Asha_

_P.S. The breakfast on the desk is yours - thought you might be hungry._

Cullen looked up to the desk, and his stomach growled at the sight of the loaf of bread and bacon awaiting him.  He read the note over again while he ate.  It dawned on Cullen that she had let him sleep the night in her bed, the last night she would have a bed for at least a week.  He had no idea how to thank her, but the ideas that formed in his mind caused him to choke on his bread.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating will be going up after I post the next chapter, which will hopefully be within a week.


	5. Gifts

Cullen slept fitfully in his tent the first night Asha was gone.  He awoke in the early morning tired and sore, wishing for Asha’s bed.  He resolved to follow the Inquisitor’s orders the following evening and was rewarded with a deep, relaxing sleep.  Upon waking that morning, he was determined to find some way to repay her kindness.  As he and his troops worked rebuilding the ramparts that day, Cullen thought of many options but dismissed them all. He considered flowers, but he worried that if Asha was delayed in the Western Approach, she would return to her chambers to find wilting flowers, which was definitely not the message that he wanted to convey.   There was no way he would approach Harrit to ask him to craft a weapon or armor for Asha, as Cullen knew that would be the surest way to start whisperings around Skyhold.  The blacksmith was a chatty drunk.  He thought perhaps a bottle of wine, but he was not even sure what, if anything, Asha drank.  He had seen her sit with Bull, Dorian and Varric in the tavern but asking any of them for advice was out of the question.  None of them needed to be drunk to get their tongues wagging.

Cullen eventually decided on a blanket, what he considered the perfect, practical gift for an Inquisitor in Skyhold.  He wanted something warm for her, as the cotton blanket on her bed did not entirely keep out the cold.  There was only one merchant currently set up in the courtyard, and she had nothing like Cullen wanted.  He knew he would be unable to get away to trade himself, so he went to Josephine, hoping she could add something to her requisition orders.  She had set up her office off the hall to the War Room, and Cullen decided to catch her before the meeting Leliana had called.

“Ambassador, do you have a moment?” he inquired.

She looked up at him with abnormally large smile on her face.  “Of course, Commander.  Please sit.”  Cullen took the chair across from her at her desk.  “You know, we could be meeting in your office if you had not been so stubborn about its reconstruction.  Honestly, the tavern was not so important that it should take priority over your rooms.”

“I am fine, Josephine,” he replied, appreciating her concern but not wanting to repeat this conversation again.  He could not tell if she was acting strangely or if he was just more observant after getting adequate sleep.  “The tavern is important for morale.  My rooms will be ready soon enough.  I can certainly manage until then.”

“Honestly, Cullen, one would think that you enjoy sleeping in a tent,” she said, still smiling and watching him with interest.

“I will be happy when my rooms are ready,” he replied.  He realized that he was not as excited about the prospect as he had been several days ago.

“Oh, will you?” Leliana appeared in the doorway.  “I had thought you had grown rather fond of the Inquisitor’s quarters,” she said, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

Cullen groaned.  “Maker, you both know don’t you?”

“What sort of Spymaster would I be if I did not know?” Leliana asked him lightheartedly as she stood next to her Antivan friend.

“You brought the offices up on purpose!” he exasperatedly accused Josephine.

“Now I know why you did not care when your rooms were completed,” Josephine replied with a sly smile.

“What?” Cullen asked.  “That had nothing to do with…Maker’s breath!  You think we are sleeping together!” 

The women continued smiling at him in reply.

Cullen could feel himself blushing, despite his best efforts.  “I…she…we are _not_ together.  Asha merely offered her chambers when I was unwell, and she _ordered_ me to use them while she was away.  She was merely being _nice_ ,” Cullen said.  He sighed, sensing he was fighting a losing battle.  “I only came here to ask Josephine if she could help me obtain a great bear fur blanket from Orlais.”

Josephine’s smile broke into a full grin as her eyes got wide.  “You are buying her a present?” she asked giddily.

“As a thank you for her kindness!” Cullen half-shouted.  The statement had come out much louder than he anticipated; he was already regretting the involvement of the other advisors.  “This was a mistake,” he muttered.

“No! Cullen, it is perfect,” Josephine spoke quickly, trying to assuage him.  “The bear signifies strength and its fur is very important to the Dalish in Orlais. And they are so soft and warm!  It will be a wonderful gift.  She will love it.  I know just who to contact to get one.”

“Thank you,” Cullen sighed.  “How much will it cost?” he said, pulling a bag of coins from his pocket.

“Oh, Cullen, do not-“ Josephine started.

“I will not use Inquisition funds for this,” Cullen said sternly.  He was adamant that this would be a gift from him and not from the Inquisition.

Josephine eyes shone as she asked him for seventeen coppers, which he handed to her.  He quickly asked Leliana what business she needed to discuss, hoping to direct the conversation to literally anything else.

To Cullen’s relief and Josephine’s delight, the blanket arrived a couple of days before Asha was scheduled to return.  Cullen was immensely pleased with the specimen, a perfect deep brown and soft as fennec fur.  He suspected the cost was higher than what Josephine quoted him, but she refused to discuss it, saying that the matter had concluded while shooing him away with her hand.  He initially brought it back to his rooms, which had just been completed.  Well, mostly completed.  His office was finished, and his room above had been passible enough.  He told himself he would remove the tree growing into his room from the roof when he had time, but currently, he had more important things on his mind.  Cullen was not sure what to do with the blanket.  He imagined giving it to Asha upon her return, but he was suddenly worried the gift would be unwanted.  He decided a far better plan would be to leave the blanket in her chambers, then, if she hated it, she could just throw it out the window or into the fireplace without ever mentioning it to him. 

He felt he should probably at least write a note, but he had no idea what to say.  He stared at the paper on his desk for an hour, words running through his head that should not be put into a note of thanks.  He missed her, as much as it terrified him to admit it.  He had lain in her bed and worried about her, wishing she would return sooner.  He hoped that she would think about him when she used the blanket, warmly falling asleep to thoughts of him.  But none of this was appropriate for his note, so he wrote "Thank you.  –Cullen,” placed the note on top of the folded blanket on her bed and returned to his office.

Her party returned the next day, earlier than anticipated, just as the sun was setting. Asha’s letters had informed her advisors of Venatori activity in the Western Approach, but nothing that needed discussed immediately, so they had agreed to let her call a meeting at her leisure after her return.  Cullen watched as she, Solas, Blackwall and Cassandra walked through the courtyard, and Asha looked up to him on the ramparts and waved.  He smiled and returned the greeting, then retreated to his desk anxiously.  He tried reading through a scouting report from Crestwood with little success.  His heart started pounding when he heard a knock at his door only ten minutes later.

“Enter,” he said, summoning his confidence.

Asha opened his door, a knowing smile on her face.  She shut the door behind her.  “You shouldn’t have.”

Cullen felt himself falter.  Did she not like it?  Was it too much?  Not enough?  Cullen frowned slightly.  “If you do not like it-“

“Oh, no!” she interrupted him.  “I love it!  It is the most beautiful fur I have ever seen!  I can’t wait to use it tonight.  I am looking forward to my bed more than ever.”  Cullen let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding as she continued.  “I meant that you owed me nothing in return.  I wanted to help you, Cullen,” she said, her smile warm.  “I wanted you to help you feel better.”

“I greatly appreciated the use of your chambers.  I just…I wanted you to know that,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Cullen.  It is wonderful,” she said, her eyes full of gratitude.

Cullen could feel the strange tension in the air.  There was so much more that he wanted to say to her, but he was not prepared to say the words.  The look in her eyes made him hope, but hope was not enough for him.  He cleared his throat to break the silence.

Asha blinked and shifted her weight.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Cullen replied honestly.

“Have you always had headaches?” she asked, full of concern.

Cullen sighed.  Now was as good a time as any to have this conversation, he supposed.  “No, they are relatively recent, and something I wanted to discuss with you, actually.”  She stepped closer to him as he leaned back against his desk.  “What do you know of Templar training?”

Asha looked confused and shrugged.  “Not much, I am afraid.  I know their role in the Circles.”

He had expected as much.  “Templars are given extensive sword training, but their additional abilities come from lyrium.  It is given to every recruit once they officially become part of the Order.  They require it to maintain their abilities, but it is also very addictive,” Cullen said, becoming uncomfortable.  “If a Templar stops taking lyrium, the withdrawals can be extremely taxing.  Some become ill; others lose their minds from the toll the withdrawal takes on their bodies.”

“The Templars who have joined us so far are well supplied, though, yes?” Asha asked.

“Yes, we are well supplied with lyrium for those who require it.  I, however, am no longer taking it,” Cullen said.  He had been dreading this moment for some time, and he felt the rush of adrenaline as he finally told her the complete truth of his situation.  Cullen had spent many of his sleepless nights thinking about how he would tell Asha about the lyrium.  The words came more easily than they might have otherwise.  "The rebellion at the Kirkwall Circle was a very difficult time.  It made me question everything I knew about being a Templar, and it is what ultimately led to me wanting to give up that life.  I did not feel I could fully commit to my life outside the Order if I was still taking lyrium, so I chose to stop."  
  
So many emotions played across Asha's face that Cullen had a hard time reading her.  "This is why you get the headaches?"  
  
"Yes," Cullen confirmed.  
  
"Anything else?" she asked gently.  Concern was evident in her voice.  
  
Cullen hesitated.  He knew he had gotten through the worst of the physical symptoms prior to joining the Inquisition: cold sweats, shivering, vomiting.  He did not know how much he should share with Asha, so he decided to focus on the present.  "Some tremors, but they have mostly stopped with the potions that Adan supplies.  Nightmares, but I am not sure those are due entirely to lyrium withdrawal."  He chose not to elaborate further.  
  
Asha studied him, worry covering her face.  She waited only moments to speak, but the silence felt like an eternity to him.  "You are incredibly brave, Cullen," she said to him at last.  
  
He could feel relief and something akin to pride wash over him at her words.  Cullen lightly chuckled to keep himself from beaming at her.  "It does not always feel like bravery."  
  
"To give up the life you know, to seek something better for yourself, even knowing that the path will not be an easy one...that is true bravery."  Cullen could hear the hint of sadness in her voice.  He wondered if she was thinking of her clan, her people who had abandoned her.  They had not discussed her clan since they were in Haven, which he assumed had meant that she still had not heard from them.  He wanted to ask her about them again, but she continued speaking before he had the chance. "I am so very glad you are our Commander."  
  
Cullen could feel the familiar blush rush to his cheeks.  "I...thank you…You should know, that if I ever become unable to fulfill my duties, I have asked Cassandra to relieve me.  It was something I made her promise when I joined the Inquisition."  
  
"I hope it never comes to that," she replied.  "If there is anything I can do, or anything you need, please let me know," she asked, her eyes meeting his.  
  
He nodded.  "Thank you."  His words did not adequately express the gratitude he felt toward her and her easy acceptance of this darker part of him.  He had to extend more effort than he anticipated into not sweeping her up into a crushing hug.  
  
She sighed. "I suppose I should let you finish your work.  I am quite looking forward to my bed tonight," she said with a smile.  "Good night, Cullen."  
  
"Good night, Asha."  He watched her close his door, and a flood of relief swept over him.  He had been more concerned with her reaction than he anticipated, though he knew he should not have been.  She was the most amazing woman he had ever known, and she had accepted his ongoing  recovery without any doubt.  Cullen realized in that moment that he could surrender himself to her, body and spirit, without question.  The thought both exhilarated and terrified him.  
  
He dreamt of her that night, one of the few nights he was spared from his nightmares.  They were in his bed, her naked body pressed against his.  They never spoke, but she kissed him as though he was the only man in existence.  Her hands gently explored his body as her lips met his.  She kissed the scar on his lip, then moved to his jaw, down his neck, lingering over his pulse point as wordless sound escaped his lips.  He could feel her smile into his neck as she continued to his collarbone, brushing light kisses along his chest as she ran her fingers softly up his inner thigh.  
  
Cullen awoke abruptly, his body throbbing with arousal.  He simultaneously cursed and praised the lyrium in his veins and the vividness it brought to his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't end up how I anticipated, so there will be probably be another ratings bump in the next one to two chapters. I didn't feel like they were ready to jump from General Audiences to Explicit just yet. Soon!


	6. The Dark Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is explicit beginning in this chapter. More notes below. Trigger warning for depression/anxiety.

Asha was only in Skyhold for a few nights before she was off to Crestwood in an attempt to uncover the Grey Wardens' link to Corypheus.  Before she left, Cullen had been able to catch her after a War Council meeting and convince her to play a game of chess.  He had been beaten soundly, which came as no surprise to Cullen.  He could hardly remember anything about the game at all, having been so focused on Asha.  They chatted easily, and by the end of the game she had smiled and recommended they spend more time together.  Cullen had stammered out something affirmative, distracted by the way the sunlight caught her hair and made her look more radiant than usual.  She was gone before sunrise the next day, and Cullen was disappointed he did not get to bid her farewell.

Leliana received word from her spies that Asha and her team had captured Caer Bronach, the keep acting as a small base for that region.  However, the rest of the news they passed along was troubling.  It appeared that the Grey Wardens were working with Corypheus and his Venatori, summoning demons to assist them through the use of blood magic. The thought sickened Cullen, and he struggled to keep his memories of his time as a Templar from seeping into his present life.  The Wardens had been traced to Adamant Fortress, and the three advisors agreed that their forces would head to Adamant upon Asha's return.  Cullen immediately set to work finalizing preparation of his troops, working them harder during sparing matches and ensuring that their new recruits were well armed and armored.  He collapsed into bed exhausted every night, too tired even for nightmares, and he awoke early every morning to continue his work.  Thoughts of Asha played at his mind, but he was too engrossed in battle preparations to let them linger.

She eventually returned, heading immediately to the fireplace in her quarters to rid herself of the incessant damp of Crestwood.  Asha was exhausted from her journey, but her advisors could not delay.  They met her in her chambers and briefed her on the situation at Adamant.  Their spies reported that the Grey Wardens had fortified the keep, which would make a full assault with the army difficult.  Tactically, their best bet would be for Asha to lead a small party into the keep while Cullen commanded the army outside.  "It will be a difficult battle to be sure," Cullen said gravely, wishing that circumstances would allow him to fight alongside Asha.

"What do we know of their numbers?" Asha asked.

"It appears that the majority of the remaining Grey Wardens are either at Adamant or on their way there," Leliana explained.  "Thankfully, we are ten years removed from a Blight, so their numbers have dwindled, but they number just under a thousand.  There are a limited number of Venatori with them, and as to the demons, we cannot say."

"Our forces can match theirs," Cullen confirmed.  "However, the keep is well defended.  It is built against a chasm, which affords assault only from the south.  There is only one accessible entrance, and the interior of the keep does not lend itself to large armies.  Our forces will rely on you getting inside and clearing out the ramparts for our ladders."

"Understood.  We set out in the morning, then?" Asha gave a slight sigh, glancing out her window at the setting sun.

"We are prepared if you are," Cullen replied.  "We have already sent forces to the Western Approach in preparation."

"In the morning, then," Asha said, weariness at the edge of her voice.

"Get some rest, Inquisitor, "Josephine offered, as the advisors moved toward her door.

"Cullen, a moment?" Asha asked.  

"Of course," he responded immediately as Josephine and Leliana took their leave.  Josephine closed the door with a conspiratorial smile on her face.

Asha bit her lip nervously.  Cullen watched her, unsure of why she kept him back.  He had wanted more time with her, but he felt uneasy not knowing what she wanted from him.  Her eyes went to his face, and she smiled.  “Remember when we were playing chess and I suggested that we spend more time together?” she asked, the words falling from her mouth quickly, as though she were afraid of stopping them.  “I, erm, thought we'd have, well, more...time," she said.”

Cullen could feel his heart beat expectantly.  He wondered if she had spent her free moments thinking about him, as he had about her.  "I...I feel the same.  Wish we had more time, that is" he said softly in reply.

She gave him a small smile and stepped closer to him.  "Cullen, I..." she paused.  She was so close to him now.  His heart ached for her, spurred by hope that she felt the same.  Asha continued, hesitantly.  "Cullen, I...care for you."  

Her eyes locked to his.  Cullen felt a rush of warmth through his body.  He was emboldened by her declaration, a confirmation that his hope had not been in vain.  He wanted only her, and she wanted him.  He reached his hand to her cheek, holding it gently as it ignited his skin.  "I have never cared for anyone as deeply as I care for you," he told her truthfully as he brought his lips to hers.  His entire body burned for her as she returned the kiss without hesitation.  He felt himself come undone.  Every worry he had, every reservation burned away by the passion flaring inside him.  He kissed her more insistently, which she met by parting her lips, her tongue begging entrance to his mouth.  His arms circled her waist, pulling her body against his.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers working through his wavy blond hair.  The sensation caused him to groan into her lips, and he took the moment to rest his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.  She, too, was breathless as she nuzzled her forehead against his.

Her lips hovered over his.  "Let's make the most of our time,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire.  She brought her lips to his once more.  She kissed him deeply, pressing her hips against him and his obvious arousal.  Cullen hissed, and he could feel Asha’s smirk against his lips.  Her hands released from his neck to work his coat from his shoulders, which fell unceremoniously to the floor.  Her hands then moved to the hem of his shirt, sliding under it and running her fingers up the line of muscles on his stomach, coming to rest on his chest.  Cullen released her and pulled his shirt over his head.  Asha’s eyes raked over his body, and Cullen could resist the call of her body no longer. 

His hands flew to the clasps of her shirt, working furiously until only her binding was between them.  He unwrapped her, the pull of the cloth stiffening her nipples as he worked.  As the scrap of cloth fell away, Cullen's eyes drank her in.  She was perfection.  She pulled him to her, kissing him with unbridled passion as her breasts pressed into his chest.  She moaned at the feel of his skin, and she pulled him toward her bed without breaking their kiss.  She nipped at his lips as her hands pulled his clothing from his hips, releasing his erection from its confinement.  Cullen stumbled to kick off his boots as he pulled down her trousers.  Their remaining clothing fell to the floor without a thought as she pulled him on top of her on her bed.  Cullen could feel the heat inside him begging for release, and his body was tense with anticipation.

He positioned himself over her, and his eyes focused on her.  She smiled a hazy, lusty smile at him that drove him mad.  He plunged himself inside her as deep as he could, and they both gasped at the sensation of realized fantasies.  He moved himself slowly in and out of her, bracing himself with hands just above her shoulders.  She watched him with lidded eyes, sighs of pleasure escaping her lips in time with his movements.  She moved her arms above her head, sliding her hands under his, lacing their fingers together.  He pressed his palms to hers, reveling in the sensation of held hands as he slid inside her.  Her hips moved in time with his, and he quickened his pace.  Her breath stuttered, breathing faster.  She moaned as he broke his rhythm, pushing himself as deep as he could.  Her hips rocked faster against him, her pace frenzied.  She pleaded wordlessly as her nails dug into his hands, and Cullen could feel himself reach the edge.  He ground himself into her as fast as he could, and she screamed his name as she came, throbbing around his length.  He thrust hard inside her, spilling himself deep into her as she quivered in ecstasy beneath him.  He kissed her as he pulled away to lie beside her.  They had no words as they lay breathless, each enraptured by the other.  Asha nuzzled Cullen's neck, kissing it lightly as rested her head on his shoulder.  He wrapped his arm around her, holding her as she fell asleep.  

Cullen closed his eyes and felt happier than he had in ages.  He prepared to fall asleep, but his unbidden thoughts took him elsewhere.  What if he had yet another nightmare, waking Asha and keeping her from getting much needed sleep before they set off for battle tomorrow?  What if he talked again in his sleep, and what if what he said horrified her?  What if she awoke and she asked him to leave?  What if she wanted nothing beyond tonight?  _What if what if what if_? 

Cullen tried to breathe slowly in an effort to calm himself.  He focused on Asha’s breathing beside him.  What if he couldn’t protect her?  What if Corypheus captured her?  Gave her to the blood mages?  _Stop, stop, stop._   He could feel his thoughts spiraling, and he felt helpless against them.  He knew that tonight would have nightmares; every night that his thoughts went to this shadowy place, his dreams plagued him.  His usual response would be to get out of bed, perhaps go to his desk to lose himself in his work or take a walk on the ramparts in the chill of the night to help clear his mind.  Now, however, he had Asha in his arms.  This moment was what he had wanted for longer than he would admit to himself.  He had wanted to know the feel of her skin, the warmth of her body against him.  He had what he wanted now, and he yet he was not content.  Cullen felt disgusted with himself.  Why couldn’t he be happy?  Why couldn’t he enjoy this moment?  He fidgeted underneath Asha.  He didn’t deserve her.  If she knew everything about him, she would hate him.  Hate who he was at Kinloch.  Hate who he was in Kirkwall.  Hate him.  She would hate him.

Cullen could feel his stomach turn, and he knew he had to get out of bed.  He moved slowly, trying not to disturb Asha.  She rolled away from him, deep asleep.  He crept around the room to gather his clothing and dressed.  He looked back at her, and sadness washed over his face.  She was so beautiful, so peaceful in her slumber.  He did not want to leave her, but he could not stay tonight.  He could not be alone with his thoughts tonight.  He closed her door softly, adjusting his coat as he headed for the ramparts.  He walked them, focusing only on counting his steps until he could no longer feel his fingers.  He returned to his office.  He went to the cabinet against his wall to open the untouched Antivan brandy that Josephine had insisted he keep for entertaining dignitaries that never met him.  His hands shook as he grabbed a glass and poured himself a generous double.  He downed the glass and poured another double, feeling the burn in his throat slowly give way to numbness.  He climbed to his loft, undressed and collapsed into bed.  He was too exhausted and cold and on the verge of drunkenness to care what nightmares awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really, really hard time writing this. Verge of tears difficult. I went back and played through DA:Origins as a mage up to the point where you work with Cullen at the Circle so I could get a better idea of Cullen's character, and it broke my heart. I really apologize about the heaviness in this chapter, but I felt it was true to Cullen's character, given his background. I have already started the next chapter, so hopefully more happiness soon.


	7. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood magic is a trigger for Cullen. Triggers for substance abuse, vague mention of violence.

Cullen had been so lost inside himself the night before that he had not considered Asha’s reaction to greeting the morning alone.  He crossed her path in the courtyard as he checked on their troops’ preparations.  Even though she pointedly refused to look at him, he could feel coldness and anger radiating off of her.  Cullen felt a tidal wave of shame and panic crash over him.  She had every right to be angry with him.  He had left her without a word, and he mentally berated himself.  Could he have not even left a note?!  But what would the note even have said?  _Sorry, I am a horrible bastard that is not worthy of the air you breathe_?  Cullen sighed as he watched her stride away toward the stables.  He started to go after her, hoping he could apologize, but Dorian was soon at her side.  Bull and Cassandra soon joined them as they readied themselves for the journey to Adamant.  Cullen frowned as he realized he would not have a chance to talk to her before the battle.

They arrived at the Wardens’ fortress after a very difficult journey for Cullen.  He knew he had hurt Asha, and the thought sickened him.  She had made a point to not make eye contact with him for the entirety of their trip, and he fought very hard to not allow the personal misery he felt to affect him as a commander.  They had to stop the Wardens to stop Corypheus.  Cullen summoned his courage and approached Asha.  Her companions surrounded her, preparing for battle.  Cassandra sharpened her sword, Bull cleaned blood off his axe and Dorian ran his fingers over the tips of his mustache.  “You are ready?” Cullen asked Asha.

“Yes,” she responded, staring at fortress in the distance.

“If you can, our men need access...”

“Ramparts.  Yes.”  Her jaw was clenched so tightly that every ‘s’ came out as a hiss.

They were going into battle, one of the most difficult they had faced.  Cullen could not leave her like this.  He swallowed his pride and ignored her companions.  “I am sorry.  You…you deserve better.”

Her eyes shot to his, and he winced slightly at the coldness in her face.  He hoped she knew that he was sincere.  She did deserve better, so much better.  She studied him for a moment.  Her face softened faintly, and she nodded to him.  She turned away before saying, “Good luck, Commander.”

Cullen tried to put his personal life out of his mind as he marched their troops to the entrance to Adamant.  They fought their way into the small courtyard, and Asha’s group broke away to go further into the keep.  Cullen fought alongside his men, and the number of Wardens coming to greet them dwindled.  He could see the ramparts, and his men were signaling their position.  Some of the Wardens had already surrendered, and Cullen was optimistic.  Then he heard the dragon.  He cursed under his breath, searching the parts of the keep he could see for Asha.  He could not find her.  He ordered one of his men to sound the retreat, as they were yet again not equipped to fight Corypheus’s dragon.  They began their retreat to the East when he saw the dragon perch on the southern part of the fortress.  He saw flashes of magic.  Four figures chased another two onto a stone bridge.  Asha looked to be in the group of four.  Cullen watched in horror as the dragon left it perch to descend, grabbing one of the figures in its mouth and crashing down on the bridge, causing the stones to give way.  He did not breathe as he watched them run from the disintegrating bridge, then fall, then a flash of green, then nothing.    

“No, no, no,” Cullen thought, the word ringing in his head.  He stared into the space they had been, now only broken stones.  His desperation was crushing.  _Focus_.  He ordered his second lieutenant to stay with the Wardens who had already surrendered.  He took a group, including his lieutenant into the keep.  Their path was easy; the demons had been dispatched.  The group swiftly made it to the top of the keep, where Asha had been, and the remaining Wardens quickly offered their surrender.  Cullen ordered his lieutenant to handle them as he walked toward the ruined bridge.  His heartbeat hammered in his head.  _Maker, please._ He drew his breath and looked into the rubble.  Two bodies.  Neither Asha.  Cullen leaned against a surviving column to catch his breath.  Where was she?  For that matter, where were Dorian, Cassandra and Bull?  “Did anyone see what happened?” he asked the men and women around him.

“They just…vanished, Commander,” one of his men responded.  “A green hole opened, and the Inquisitor and the rest just disappeared into it, ser.”

Cullen frowned.  Another rift?  Where had they gone?  Into the Fade?  Was that even possible?  He rubbed his temple.

The rubble was inaccessible from their current position, so Cullen ordered the retreat from the keep, Wardens in tow.  They gathered with the forces outside the keep.  Cullen granted one of the Wardens request to collect Warden Commander Clarel’s body as they went to inspect the rubble.  Cullen could find no trace of Asha or any other member of the Inquisition as they sifted through the stones. 

A crack and hiss split the air as a rift opened at the top of the rubble.  Dorian stumbled through first, followed by Bull and Cassandra.  Cullen held his breath as he waited for her.  The seconds seemed like eternities until she appeared, hurling herself out of the rift.  He pushed through the soldiers between them and ran to her, scrambling up the cracked stones.  She was on her hands and knees catching her breath as he knelt beside her.  At the last second, he stopped himself from wrapping his arms around her.  “Are you alright?  Can you stand?”

“I’m…I will be alright,” she said quietly, trying to stand.  He held her arm as he steadied her.  As she stood, she stared at him, an inscrutable expression on her face.  Cullen blushed.  He had no right to touch her.  His hand fell to his side as he asked the rubble, “Do you need assistance?”

“I’ll manage,” she said squarely.  “We need to get back to Skyhold.”

Cullen left his lieutenant in charge of their forces as they stayed to rest.  Cullen left with a handful of soldiers and the other members of the Inquisition to immediately head toward Skyhold.  It was a nearly silent trip; not even Dorian had much to say.  Upon their return, Asha updated all her advisors on what had transpired.  Corypheus had been manipulating the Wardens.  Clarel was using blood magic.  Asha had entered the Fade and fought a Nightmare.  It was a fucking mess.  Cullen felt overwhelmed with the situation; he could not imagine how Asha felt, having lived through it.

“We are all glad you survived,” Josephine said to Asha, who was exhausted from recounting her ordeal.  “We have heard from Duke Gaspard in Orlais.  There will be a ball at the Winter Palace in two weeks’ time.  There is nothing else you need do before then.  Please, take some time to relax.  You certainly deserve it.”

Asha nodded and excused herself.  Cullen started to follow her, but he was not sure that he deserved to speak to her.  He walked to his office instead.  The events she recounted raced through his brain.  Corypheus had convinced people to use _blood magic_.  Cullen could feel his pulse quicken and stomach lurch at the thought.  He shut the door to his office as his memories of blood magic rushed to his brain.  He began to sweat, the memory of pain searing his nerves.  He could feel the lyrium in his veins burn.  His mind raced.  Blood magic.  Abominations. Torture.  His breaths were ragged as thoughts and memories bled together.  Blood mages nearly killed Asha.

He could feel his rage ignite the lyrium that remained inside him.  It was burning, begging him.  There was only one way to combat blood magic.  Cullen paced around the room as he wiped sweat from his forehead.  He could not fully serve the Inquisition like this, not against blood magic.  He could not protect Asha like this.  She would die.  She would die at the hands of a blood mage and it would be _his_ fault.

Cullen scrambled toward the small chest in the corner of his office.  His hands shook as he fumbled with the lock until it released.  He withdrew a small, rectangular wooden box with a blazing sword engraved on it.  He took it to his desk and opened it quickly.  The bottle of blue lyrium sang to him.  It would ease his suffering.  It would give him the power to protect Asha.  It would help him.  No more headaches.  No more pain.  Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, turning away to look out the window.  The sun was beginning to set, but the sky out his window was blue.  Blue like the lyrium.  He needed it.  He _wanted_ it.  He turned and grabbed the bottle, held it in his hand.  It would help.  He could help Asha.

Asha.  His hand paused over the stopper of the bottle as he thought of her.  What would she say about the lyrium?  How would she look at him?  Cullen’s breaths were uneven as he fought through the fog of his mind.  No.  No.  “No!” he shouted as hurled the bottle across the room, smashing it against the opposite wall.

The call of the lyrium was fading, replaced by rage.  Rage at Corypheus.  Rage at blood mages.  Rage at himself.  The lyrium box was the next to hit the wall, followed by a flask that had been resting on his desk.  He shoved the papers on his desk to the floor, then moved to the bookshelf.  He launched a book in the direction of his door then another and another and another until he heard distant shouting.  No, it was louder than distant.  “Cullen!”

He turned to his door to see Asha standing there, books at her feet.  He stared at her for a moment as his fury ebbed and his breathing slowed.  He blinked.  He looked around the room; it was a wreck.  Maker, had he done all that?  He could feel his brow furrow.  He looked to Asha.  She stepped toward him slowly as worry covered her face.  “I was coming to talk to you and heard things breaking…Cullen, are you alright?”

The hum of lyrium and adrenaline was subsiding.  He leaned against his desk, and Asha took her place beside him.  She deserved an explanation, but Cullen was struggling to organize his thoughts.  She waited quietly beside him until he finally spoke.

“Blood mages…you were almost killed by blood mages.”  His voice was barely above a whisper.  He could feel her watching him.

“Cullen, I’m alright,” she said softly.

“But what if Corypheus recruits more?” he asked, panic threatening his voice.  “What if the abominations take you to the Fade and you do not return?”

“Talk to me,” she said, her voice gentle and patient.

Cullen wiped his brow as he turned to look out the window.  The sky was splashed with purple and pink, but he saw none of it.  His voice was heavy when he finally spoke.  “I have never told you about my time at the Circle Tower, at Kinloch.  Indeed, I have never told anyone besides Knight-Commander Greagoir.”  He sighed and continued slowly.  “As Templars, we were taught to watch for the signs of blood magic.  We went through hours and hours of training on it.  What to look for, who was most susceptible…but our training was not enough.

“We caught one blood mage as he was trying to escape, and we thought that was the end of it.  But there were others.  Others we never suspected.  They rebelled, turning their fellow mages into abominations.  They killed most of the Templars, but others…were not so lucky.

“They erected some kind of magic barrier around us.  They summoned demons who toyed with our minds.  Made us hallucinate our deepest desires, only to replace them with our darkest fears…” Cullen paused, haunted by memories he had not spoken of in ten years.  He gathered as much courage as he could and continued, “I watched my fellow Templars die, one by one.  Finally, only Eurin and I were left.  He got on his knees and begged me to kill him.  Begged me to end his suffering.  So…I did.”  He heard Asha make a noise behind him, but he lacked the resolve to look at her.  “The Hero of Ferelden found me soon afterward.  I pleaded with her to kill every mage left in the Circle.  They had all been tainted by blood magic.  None of them could be trusted.  And so she killed them.”  Cullen hung his head.  “I should have given them a chance.  There were _children_ in the Circle.  I should have told her to stop the blood mages and spare the innocent…” he trailed off to keep his voice from breaking.  He had never recounted his time at the Circle Tower without a full complement of lyrium in his veins.  The memories and emotions were stronger than he expected.

“Cullen…”

Asha knew now.  She knew what he had seen, what he had done.  He knew he deserved no pity.  He deserved no comfort.  “Please,” he asked her.  “I want to be alone.”

He heard boards creak beneath her feet.  She was standing beside him.  Asha put her hand gently on his shoulder.  “Do you truly want to be alone?” she asked, searching his face.

She had not left.  He had showed her the darkest part of him, and here she stood, beside him, offering him comfort.  She was everything he did not deserve, but he needed her.  “No,” he responded, his voice breaking.

She hugged him tightly, and he felt something break free inside him.  His throat clenched, and he sobbed into her shoulder as she held him.

 

 

Cullen tried to open his eyes, but they protested.  He could feel the grit and crust keeping them closed.  He wiped his eyes blindly, blinking.  His eyelids cracked open slightly, but they felt like sandpaper against his eyes.  He rubbed them again, and this time was able to open his eyes almost fully with some effort.  He was in his bed.  A candle burned low on the small table beside him, and he could see the pitcher and cup awaiting him.  He did not care what was in the pitcher; his throat burned.  He poured into the cup and drank the cold water in sweet relief.  As he set the cup down, he noticed Asha, curled in a ball on the floor next to his bed.  Her head was resting against her arm in want of a pillow. 

He sat up, pulling the blankets off of him.  The soft noise startled her, and she sprang up instantly.  She smiled when she saw him staring at her.  “You’re awake.  How are you feeling?”

Cullen rubbed his face, trying to remember what had happened.  Oh, Maker, he had told her about the Circle Tower.  And he had cried.  He frowned as he thought of it.  But she was here with him now.  How did they get up here?  Why is it so dark?  “I…I am having trouble recalling…” he stammered.

She stretched and sat next to him on the bed.  “What was the last thing you remember?”

Cullen cleared his throat.  “Crying,” he said, blushing.

“No need to be ashamed of that,” said gently as she smiled at him.  “After you were done, you said you wanted a sleeping potion.  You were desperate for sleep, so I gave you one.  You climbed up here, but I practically had to drag you to bed.”

This sounded somewhat familiar to Cullen, though it all seemed very far away.  He frowned again.  He was sure to have had nightmares after what had happened.  Asha had to have experienced it.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Did I…disturb you?”

She looked at him quizzically before realizing what he was asking.  “The nightmares?”

“I…I am sorry.  They do not wake me when I take a sleeping potion.  I…I did not realize you would stay.”  Shame colored his cheeks.

“Cullen,” Asha put her hand on his arm.  “I stayed because I knew you would have them.”  His eyes snapped to hers. She continued, “When I loaned you my bed, you took a sleeping potion.  I came back see if you were still asleep, and you were screaming.  I tried to wake you, but you couldn’t come out of it so I just…talked to you.”  It was her turn to blush.  He continued staring at her, and she continued nervously.  “You know, just telling you it was alright, it would be over soon, you weren’t alone…stuff like that.  You quieted down after that, so I thought maybe it helped.”  She smiled at him again, still blushing.

“You knew?” he asked her in awe.

“Well, I didn’t really know how to bring it up to you.  And I didn’t know how you felt about me, so...I was worried you would think it was strange.”

Cullen stifled a laugh, “You heard me screaming during a nightmare that I could not wake from and you were worried that you were strange?”

She shrugged. 

He stared at her in disbelief.  “You knew everything and still you stayed?”

She tilted her head slightly and smiled at him.  “Obviously.”

He knew in that moment that he loved her, though he could not yet say the words to her.  He loved her kindness, her gentleness, her selflessness.  He loved the way her nose crinkled when she smelled deathroot.  He loved the way laughed too loud.  He loved the way she played with the pieces on the war table when she thought no one was looking.  He loved every single thing about her.

His eyes spoke what he dared not say.  “I will never know how to adequately thank you.”

She brought her arms around his neck.  “Never leave me alone in my bed again.”

“Never again,” he vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to end this here for now, but I may come back and add more eventually. I'll be working on a piece for the Dragon Age Big Bang, and I don't want to spread myself too thin. I hope you enjoyed reading Endurance!


End file.
